


parking

by waldorph



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Time, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-07
Updated: 2011-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/pseuds/waldorph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things to worry about while getting jerked off in the back of a truck, Danny doesn’t think “are there grenades?” is a common concern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	parking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leupagus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/gifts).



> As always, this is leupagus' fault. Well, I mean, I offered to write her porn, but she was the one who wanted sex in a truck bed.

Steve's hand is good, slick and callused and just right, mouth hot on Danny's neck.

Danny would feel mildly embarrassed about the way he's shoving his hips up to meet Steve's hand, fucking his cock into Steve's fist, but really?  If he's going to be embarrassed, it's going to be about the fact that he is fucking _parking_ and is on a blanket in the back of Steve's fucking truck.  At sunset.  In the middle of nowhere.

"Come on, Danny, come on," Steve mutters in his ear, and Danny wonders when he got this easy.

Also, there are bad guys who are smoldering in the wreckage formerly known as their car at the bottom of cliff, possibly caught in trees on the way down, but right now Danny is going to focus on the fact that when he pulled the tailgate down and sat, trying to catch his breath and maybe not jump Steve because there is driving and there is what just happened there, and that wasn't so much driving as it was keeping the truck on the "road" with the power of Steve's fucking mind alone.

…This is what prolonged exposure to Steve does. Makes him value handjobs over dead criminals. Once upon a time Danny's pretty sure he was a half-way decent person. Before Hawaii. Before Steve.

"Stop thinking so much," Steve commands, like that's a thing he can do.

"Shut up," Danny tells him, and Jesus, what if there are grenades hiding somewhere in this truck bed, because he has a daughter and Steve's hand is good, but not worth getting blown up over and--

"Jesus Christ!" he grunts, jerking his hips up.  Steve smirks, all satisfied because apparently anything less than Danny’s full and complete attention isn’t going to cut it, and keeps right on pumping.  He pulls back a little further, like he wants to watch Danny fall apart or something.  Let him.  Danny's going to _wreck_ him.  "Is this where you take all the girls?"  Danny asks, and his voice doesn't even crack.

"Only the easy ones," Steve says cheerfully, and does this thing with his wrist that's just--yeah.

Good.

Stars-behind-the-eyelids good, toe-curling, hand-jobs-should-not-fucking-do-it-for-him-this-hard good.

He sprawls, staring at the sky through the canopy and thinks that shit like this never happens in Jersey.  You occasionally get blown in an alley or in a supply closet, but your partner never takes you parking in New Jersey.

Danny watches as Steve eyes the come all over his hand, then looks at Danny, then fucking _licks_ it off his fingers.

"Oh my god you are such a slut," he groans, and Steve beams, all dorky and wide-eyed, pleased with himself, like no one ever told him that was a bad thing for people to call you.  Then again, people were probably too afraid to call Steve a slut.  In Steveland, "slut" probably means "very most specialist princess".  Jesus Christ.

"Right," Danny decides, and buttons up, wincing at the scrape of cotton against his dick, sliding off the tailgate and pulling Steve closer, so his legs are mostly hanging off. Danny settles between his legs, hands on the tops of Steve's thighs, and goes to fucking town. The angle's not bad, and he's got the leverage here, even if Steve's got the blowjob manners of a 14 year old, all pulling hair and jerking hips and whining. Danny smirks and takes him down, tightens his throat and listens to the beautifully mangled sound that Steve lets loose. Danny shifts so he has one arm across Steve's hips and takes Steve's balls into his hand, rolling them as he scrapes his teeth up the shaft of Steve's dick.

"Jesus, fuck. _Danny!_ " Steve manages, and raspy is a good sound on him, but wrecked will be better.  He's longer than Danny's used to, not quite as thick, hits the back of Danny's throat and the _sound_ that makes.  Well.  No one's really going to blame Danny for wanting more, and he hasn't done it in a while--since he got here--but he can take him, all the way, stays there and then comes back up and finds the rhythm while Steve breaks under him, shaking and sweating and begging.

"Danny- god, Danny I'm--"

Danny makes a hurry up motion with the hand not fondling Steve's balls (which have drawn up so fucking tight) and Steve laughs, strangled, and then comes.

Steve is limp, spent, and Danny tucks him back in, grinning when Steve whimpers because he's still too fucking sensitive to be touched, hips jerking a little.

He takes the keys out of Steve's pocket because Steve looks sex-stupid and maybe like he needs a nap, and Danny's gonna drive them at a nice sedate pace back to HQ and send out a search-and-rescue for their mobsters, and then maybe he'll go home with Steve and ride him until the wheels fall off.


End file.
